Black Diamond Heavies

New Shirts available from Shirtkiller CLICK HERE:



CD: A touch of Someone Else's Class BUY HERE:



VINYL: A touch of someone Else's Class BUY HERE:



CD: Every Damn time BUY HERE:



VINYL:Every Damn Time BUY HERE:



The Black Diamond Heavies hail from the southern States of America but spend most of their time in a blue Van or a white van unleashing their punk-ass bues all over the world
"This Tennessee-Hailing Duo have produced a debut of filthy Southern blues that makes the Black Keys seem like choirboys"
--NME
**********************************************************
***************************************************************
***************************************************************
"the Heavies like to keep things as raw and ground-up as dirt - drums with a trashcan rattle that sound huge and far away (like they were recorded in a wide-open space down the street) and overdriven Fender Rhodes. That's all there is to it, but then again, there's so much more."
--Phoenix New Times
.*********************************************************
.*********************************************************
.*********************************************************
"Gospel-blues-punk preacher-isers John Wesley Myers and Van Campbell
baptise you in beatific raptures of Hammond, Rhodes and Drums, literally
stripping the sound down to its scantily-clad soul. Almost too
perfectly Myers is the literal son of a (Baptist) preacher man,
whereas Campbell descends from a Bourbon-distilling family. As it is,
you can absolutely bloody tell too, such is the whiskey-swilling
testifying herein. Voodoo shuffles its sinicious way through."
". swigging, swaggering and setting the VU meters swinging
right through the red like a shamans trance-eyes for the entire
ceremony till the closing corpse-raising broadsides you with it's mutant Tina Turner chicken-dancing on a Motown mamba mantra. Funky cactus-caressed wagon-train blues"
". aren't so much like Canned Heat as they heat yer can,
violate viscera and turn your pupils to pulp direct from the pulpit.
".draped in ditch-dirt and paying the tab at the Devils Inn with small change from the confession box, while swabbing woulds with sandpaper."
-- Stu Gibson
**********************************************************
**********************************************************
**********************************************************